


and even yet (we have so many miles to go)

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Sharing of Bed, M/M, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Post-Break Up Sex, Post-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: An exhausted Wedge crawls into his bunk one night. When he wakes up, he discovers he isn't the only occupant of said bunk; and after everything that happened at Hoth and Bespin, there are several reasons why he doesn't want Luke Skywalker in his bunk anymore.Wedge is alsoweakand it doesn't take long before he tumbles into something that is, honestly, probably a mistake.





	and even yet (we have so many miles to go)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roguerey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguerey/gifts).



> for roguerey, who asked for "wedge/luke for the post-breakup (or not?) prompt "i was so sleep-deprived after the night shift that i climbed into bed with you (and you just rolled with it)""
> 
> The title is from the Heather Dale song "Miles to Go"

A shift of Wedge’s runs unexpectedly late, then turns into a double; off the flight roster on time (except when they are on the highest of alerts, the restrictions on time in the cockpit are strictly kept; the Rebellion cannot afford to lose pilots over stupid things like exhaustion) but he’s then pulled into a planning meeting, which turned into a re-organisation of half the Starfighter Corps. As de-facto commander of Rogue Squadron these days, Wedge is an important voice in these meetings. Supposedly.

This is why Wedge has never wanted command. He just wants to fly, and keep his people safe. Not to sit and file paperwork and sit in meetings all day long.

But Luke has other things to do, these days, so the task is left to Wedge. Big shoes to step into, to be sure, but Wedge is fumbling along – and isn’t constantly turning to his side to ask Luke’s opinion, a Luke who isn’t there, no, absolutely not.

He’s exhausted as he makes his way back through the corridors, barely able to keep his eyes open. He takes a shortcut through the hangar, and _swears_ he can see Luke’s X-wing alongside his own, but he must be hallucinating. Luke isn’t due back for another three days, chasing a lead on Han or Jedi stuff or – Wedge can’t even remember, it was _something_.

He keys open the door, working on muscle memory – it’s bad security, he knows, but he’s had the same door code since Atollon and no one has forced him to change it yet.

If he was more awake, he might be aware that there are more possessions in the room than there should be. A bag at the foot of a bunk that wasn’t there this morning, a jacket tossed across the sheets. But he really isn’t. He strips his boots and jacket on reflex, momentarily considers sorting himself out more but thinking _screw it_ as he stumbles for his bunk.

The blanket is tucked into the far wall better than it usually is, and Wedge gives up at the idea of tugging it free, just slides further into bed so he can pull enough of it over himself. His last thought before becoming dead to the world is, _huh, the wall seems warmer than usual_ , but then he’s out like a light and thinks no more of it.

.

When Luke wakes, he becomes cognisant of something wrapped around him like a limpet. Heat radiates off them, their hair tickling the back of Luke’s neck, breath warm where it hits Luke’s exposed skin. He wonders briefly who it is, though only one person makes any real sense.

He looks down at the arms that are wrapped round him, one hand clutched into a fist around the material of his shirt, laying against his chest. He knows those hands, has seen them work a thousand times, over the controls of a Starfighter and well, other things. Wedge. It’s Wedge curled close around him, just how they used to sleep on Hoth sometimes, trying to keep warm and just be _close_ to each other.

Luke wonders what time it is. He can’t work out how to check without disturbing Wedge, and he’s in no hurry to do so. He only meant to catch an hour or two of sleep, stave off the worst of his exhaustion before going to see Leia to catch her up on the situation, but something tells Luke that it’s been longer than that.

Wedge shifts, grunting softly, lips brushing over Luke’s spine. One of his legs pins Luke to the bed and; oh, yes. Wedge is hard, against the back of Luke’s thigh. Involuntarily, Luke is sure, just a bodily process. Wedge, fast asleep, probably isn’t even aware that there’s someone in bed with him, much less that it is _Luke_.

Luke knows that the situation he’s landed in is his own fault. He chose to go to Dagobah, to abandon his post, leave the Alliance without so much as a word to anyone – apart from whisperings to Leia. He’d lied to Wedge, his last words – an agreement to see him at the rendezvous point – demonstrably false. If he were in Wedge’s shoes, he wonders if he could forgive such offences. Wedge certainly seems iffy on the concept. There are mitigating circumstances – the Alliance still has protocols on its books for ‘weird Jedi shit’, the only way Luke had avoided a Court Martial.

(Mon Mothma had held her hand up and sighed and went ‘say no more,’ when Luke had told her he’d been to train with Master Yoda. Mothma had been around long enough that she’d probably met Master Yoda.)

Anyway, it’s not like Wedge has shut Luke out completely. He’s just… closed down their romantic relationship, which Luke had been looking forward to – and still wants, if he’s honest – resuming.

He really had only meant to nap for an hour. He’d caught Janson in the hangar, who said Wedge was pulling a double-shift, so Luke thought he had plenty of time. What was the harm in lying down in Wedge’s bunk and allowing himself just a little bit of comfort, to drift off ensconced in the memory of Wedge. Apparently, it had worked far too well as a sleep aid.

Luke has a choice; either he drifts back asleep, forgets the entire thing, and pleads ignorance when Wedge wakes up the next morning, or he bites the bullet and wakes Wedge up and makes his excuses now, and goes to sleep in the other bunk in the room, the one he should have slept in from the start, cold and alone.

… Luke isn’t a saint. It doesn’t take him long to fall back asleep, even as Wedge pulls him tighter. He drifts off, dreaming of nights spent on Hoth where they slept, limbs entwined, barely able to tell where one ended and the other began, and wonders if he’ll ever get that again.

.

It’s the chime of Wedge’s comm that wakes him. He groans, rolls over and grasps for where he tossed his jacket last night. After fumbling in the pocket, he finds the damn thing and thumbs the connection. “Antilles,” he says, attempting to sound clear and not just woken from sleep, just in case it’s someone from command.

“Relax Wedge, it’s only me,” Tycho’s voice sounds, slightly amused from the comm. “Keep sleeping. Just wanted to know if Skywalker was about – the Princess is looking for him.”

Wedge flicks his eyes over to Luke’s bunk – it’s still as pristine as the day Wedge made it, no sign of it being slept in. Except there’s a jacket lying atop of it, and Wedge is fairly certain that it isn’t his. He’s about to issue a denial to Tycho – what’s Luke even doing on base, anyway, he’s not supposed to be about – when a soft grunt sounds, and Wedge becomes aware of the solid line of heat lying beside him in his bunk. Looking back over, Wedge sees the tell-tale strands of golden hair peeking out from under the covers. “He’s here. Does she need to see him, or just wondering where he is?”

“The latter I think – if not, I’ll let you know.”

The comm falls silent again, and Wedge drops it back down. Sighing, he returns himself to lying in the small slip of the bed that Luke has left him. His gaze falls on the man besides him. “Oh Luke.” He resists the urge to run a hand through Luke’s soft locks, though it takes a considerable amount of effort, physically trapping his hands beneath his own body weight to keep them still. Deciding that this cannot go on – these bunks are cramped, unless the two people sharing them are curled up around the other, which…

Well, there are reasons why Wedge doesn’t want Luke in his bed anymore. Good reasons. His disappearance, the betrayal of trust, his ongoing preoccupation with Jedi shit and the search for Han… and they are all melting away now. Having Luke beside him changes every promise he’s made to himself since he learnt what Luke did in flying off to Dagobah.

“Wake up.” He shakes Luke insistently, not willing to deal with this crisis alone. Booting Luke out of bed might do the trick.

Luke murmurs, mumbles, stretching his arms and legs out before he blinks himself awake.

God, Wedge had forgotten how blue his eyes are. How do you forget a colour like that? It’s dazzling, and Wedge forgets every word he meant to say to Luke as he gets lost in his eyes.

“Wedge?” Luke blinks some more, looking befuddled. In the close confines of the bunk, their faces are within inches of each other. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Wedge can’t help it, lining his body against Luke’s, not pulling away, even though he knows he should. “Just didn’t expect to wake up with anyone in my bed.”

“Hey, I think I was here first?” Luke looks a little bashful, but he’s right – Wedge crawled into bed with Luke, not the other way round. Luke is the one tucked against the wall.

“Yes, but this is definitely my bunk.” Wedge slides his hand up, pushing down to lean on his elbow. “I thought that much should have been obvious.”

A dusting of pink covers Luke’s cheeks, and he ducks Wedge’s studious, serious, gaze. “I just—” Luke’s voice is soft, reticent, and Wedge thinks he understands. “I wanted—”

“Luke—”

“I miss you,” Luke blurts. It hangs between them for a moment before Luke scrambles backwards, away from Wedge, sitting upwards in the bed and looking for an escape route. Wedge sits up too, swinging his legs close to himself, leaving enough of the bed clear for Luke to get out of it if he wants too. Luke just pulls the sheet up close to him, making himself as small as he can at the end of the bed. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t—”

“Luke.” Wedge interrupts him before he can say anything stupid, the sort of thing that Wedge is good at saying, putting his foot in his mouth when it comes to interpersonal affairs. “You don’t—” Wedge scrubs at his face with the heel of his hand. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me.” Wedge will admit that he’s curious; Luke’s guilt is indicative of the fact that he actively chose to sleep in Wedge’s bed. But he’s also not sure he’s ready for Luke’s reasons.

Luke looks vulnerable, sitting alone at the end of the bunk. He’s had an air of vulnerability about him ever since he returned from Bespin, an air that Wedge is completely unfamiliar with in the context of Luke Skywalker. It’s why he shoved his hastily prepared ‘fuck you’ speech – written in the moments of fury between discovering that Luke went away voluntarily, and seeing the man himself – back into the dark recesses of his brain, never again to be accessed unless Luke does something else to deserve it.

Wedge inches forward on the bunk. Luke’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t stop Wedge. Wedge continues until he’s right up against Luke, his thigh to Luke’s sheet-covered calf. Wedge reaches for Luke’s hand – the prosthetic one. He runs his thumb over where he knows the join to be, though it’s barely noticeable. Luke watches, uncertain, breathing suddenly noticeable against how quiet and still the room is.

“You know that it’s not just what you did, it’s me?” Wedge says, voice barely above a whisper. “I need time. I think you do too. There are things we both need to resolve, on our own.” He brings Luke’s hand close, examining it for a moment, and then presses a kiss to the palm of it.

He looks up to meet Luke’s gaze. Luke’s pupils are blown wide, eyes dark, and he’s staring at Wedge. He nods, once, a tiny bop of his head, sending golden strands of hair bouncing everywhere. “Time,” he agrees. “Alright. You’re right.”

It’s Wedge’s turn to nod. “And I don’t really mind you sleeping in my bunk, not if it…” Wedge trails off. He’s no stranger to the comfort of a bed of a loved one, but to speak that idea aloud seems dangerous. If it brings Luke comfort, if it helps him sleep, then Wedge will deal with it. “Just, maybe don’t do it when I need to be sleeping in it too? They do get cramped. We could work out a schedule.”

Luke smiles, just a little, at the ridiculous concept of a time-share for the bunk. “Wedge—?” There’s a question there, Wedge can tell, one that Luke is too uncertain to voice. Wedge regards him, and—

“Yeah, Luke, of course,” he says, as he places a hand on Luke’s knee and leans in to kiss him softly. He still has more than his fair share of weaknesses where Luke is concerned. Luke kisses back, desperate but hesitant, afraid of losing himself in the kiss. Wedge tilts his head to deepen the kiss, bringing the hand that isn’t supporting his weight up to tangle in Luke’s hair, running his tongue along the seam of Luke’s mouth. Part of him knows that it’s a bad idea, but Wedge has missed Luke just as much as Luke has apparently missed him. So he kisses Luke for all he’s worth, trying to get every pent up feeling of the last months out, so he can go back to his life undistracted.

It’s meant to be a single kiss, just enough to be a reassurance for both of them, that there might be something yet to come between them. It doesn’t take long for it to spiral into a hell of a lot more than that.

Luke loses some of his shyness, hands reaching out. One of them comes to rest on Wedge’s inner thigh, the other finds its way to Wedge’s back, pulling him a little closer. A moan rises unbidden from Wedge’s throat, and his own hand crawls from Luke’s knee towards his hip.

They have to break the kiss, both of them gasping for air. It’s difficult to know who moves first, but it’s only a moment before they’re kissing again, mutual agreement that neither of them wants to stop this. Wedge presses Luke against the far wall of the bunk, rising up on his knees to dominate the kiss, as Luke leans into it with a whimper.

Luke’s hands, on the collar of the shirt he was wearing all day yesterday, remind Wedge that he is wearing too many clothes, unfit for bed or any other activities that might take place there. So he pulls back. Luke is properly dressed in sleep-things, underwear and a vest, leaving precious little to the imagination right now.

Wedge unfastens his collar, and pulls his shirt over his head. His belt – why on earth is he even still wearing his belt? He must have been really tired last night – is the next thing to go, swiftly followed by his trousers. Judging by Luke’s widening eyes, it was the right choice. “Come here,” Wedge says, lying down and patting the space beside him.

Luke does, tossing the sheet off the bed as he does so. The bunk seems less small now that they’re actively trying to entwine themselves together. “Is this alright?” Luke asks, fingers curling around Wedge’s bicep.

“Honestly, it’s probably a really bad idea, but at this moment I couldn’t care less.” Another kiss, and Wedge tries to plaster himself to Luke, not an inch between them. Luke is hard against his hip, and Wedge shifts just slightly to bring them into alignment, eliciting a gasp from Luke as he does so. “You don’t have anywhere to be this morning, right?”

“Free as a mynock,” Luke manages to say, breath already shaky. He moves his hand, running it carefully along the curve of Wedge’s shoulder, as if he’s only just realised that he’s allowed to touch. His thumb brushes the edge of Wedge’s jawline, then over Wedge’s bottom lip. There’s a harsh intake of breath from Wedge, and Luke looks up to see Wedge’s pupils blown, dark eyes almost black with a haze of lust, his gaze fixated on Luke’s fingers. It’s intoxicating.

He leans in to kiss Wedge, a kiss that starts with the barest brush of the lips and then turns hungry, open-mouthed, Wedge pushing Luke back into the bed and taking control of the kiss. His hands push up Luke’s sleep shirt, searching for warm skin, whilst he pins Luke to the bed with all his weight and well-placed knees. It’s all Luke can do not to thrust up against Wedge, but he wants this to _last_ , which it won’t if he gives into his immediate temptations.

Wedge, though, has always been far too good at knowing what Luke wants, and far too good in bed for Luke’s own good. A well-placed kiss under Luke’s jaw makes him squirm, a “please, Wedge—” pass his lips, even though he’s not even sure what he’s asking for.

Wedge works his way down. A bruising bite of a kiss is sucked into the space just above Luke’s collarbone, the sort that will most definitely leave a mark, luckily just low enough that the collars on standard uniforms will cover it. Another kiss is placed just above the neckline of Luke’s shirt, before Wedge lifts up just enough to tug Luke’s shirt over his head.

Luke props himself up on his elbows, just letting himself look. There’s some who might argue that Wedge isn’t conventionally attractive, but there’s an awful lot to like in his face; sharp features, expressive eyebrows, a mouth that tends to spit wit and dark humour out at the most inopportune moments. His eyes are a delight, a colour that never quite settles; Luke thinks that they are probably hazel, verging from brown to green, but Luke’s seen them look grey in certain lights.

There’s a lot to _love_ , Luke knows that, but this is not the time to voice that thought.

Wedge darts in to kiss Luke’s lips again, and Luke attempts to take advantage, moving his hand under Wedge to grasp at the bulge in Wedge’s underwear. Luke elicits a gasp from Wedge, a buck of Wedge’s hips, and then Wedge is breaking the kiss and moving Luke’s hand away. Luke begins to stumble out an objection – he wants to _touch_ Wedge as well as be touched, not that he’s complaining about the current situation – when Wedge shimmies down the bunk, taking Luke’s shorts with him, exposing Luke’s cock to the air – and Wedge’s attentions – and suddenly Luke finds he’s a lot more interested in that.

He manages to kick his underwear free without kicking Wedge in the head. (Which he just _might_ have done on a previous occasion.) One of Wedge’s hands pins Luke to the bed at his hip, whilst the other wraps round Luke’s cock, agonisingly slowly, broad fingers slowly circling until Wedge has a grip, and then slowly Wedge moves his hand along from the base to the head of the shaft.

Luke bites back a moan, but can’t help the shudder.

Wedge’s thumb swipes across the head of Luke’s cock, gliding through the wetness of the precum that’s gathered there. Luke tries to stay still – Wedge likes to take his time, he _knows_ this, all impatience will get him is a scolding and more waiting. Wedge lifts his hand away; Luke almost chases him to pull him back, desperately needing contact or friction or something there, before he loses his mind. But Wedge brings his thumb to his lips, tongue licking across it to taste the precum and Luke moans. He could die right there, quite happy.

He doesn’t, because Wedge – only a little smug at the level of frustration he’s caused Luke to reach – leans back down to take Luke into his mouth. Luke’s cock is enveloped in a wet heat, Wedge – well practised – swallowing Luke all the way down to the base, despite the fact that Luke knows he’s larger than average and not the easiest to take. Wedge has never seemed to mind.

Luke threads his hands loosely through Wedge’s hair, enough to pull and tug to show his appreciation, but not enough to stop Wedge from working. And work Wedge does. Luke lies back and just looses himself in the sensation of Wedge around him, the press of Wedge’s fingertips into the bone of his hip, keeping him from bucking up too hard. Just as Luke is starting to squirm from how close he is, Wedge pulls off. His mouth follows a path back up, brushing kisses against Luke’s sternum, before capturing the whine that’s emitting from Luke’s throat in a bruising kiss.

“Patience,” Wedge counsels, and Luke squirms again, because he’s had enough of being patient. And he’s just on edge enough right now that all he wants to do is chase his orgasm, just in sight but so far out of reach.

He forces himself to take a couple of deep breaths, centring himself, because Wedge is far too collected right now and Luke intends to change that. He’s still not naked, so the first order of business is to change that, Luke managing to manoeuvre out from under Wedge to strip him. Wedge, smirking slightly, clearly expected this, and makes no complaints.

He’s far too attractive, lying there naked, casually stretched across his bunk. It’s a sight Luke wants to commit to memory, just in case he never gets to see it again. Wedge isn’t often a man who looks comfortable in his own skin, but right now – in a place one would least expect it – he does. “Force—” Luke exhales.

Wedge raises his eyebrows. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me Skywalker.” He props himself up on an elbow, regarding Luke, almost just waiting for him to move.

“You’re a handsome man, can’t I take a moment to admire that?” Luke buries back in for a kiss before anything else escapes his mouth, words about how Wedge is _beautiful_ and that Luke would shower him in praise forever if it would only mean he would stay. Instead of all that, he loses himself in Wedge’s mouth, and snakes a hand between their bodies to grasp hold of Wedge’s cock.

It’s Wedge’s turn to squirm; he thrusts up into Luke’s hand, his hands desperately seeking skin to hold tight to. He loses the ability to kiss back, his mouth going almost slack, just open and pressed against Luke. Luke works, twisting his hand around Wedge’s cock, brushing his thumb over the slit every time his hand raises upwards, which makes Wedge gasp and go practically incoherent. Luke swallows the sounds into his own mouth, greedy for them, for the knowledge that he can still take Wedge to pieces with a few well placed touches.

“Luke—” Wedge whines. He might be patient when it comes to granting Luke pleasure, full of restraint for drawing it out, but when it comes to his own, he’s desperate once he gets beyond a certain point. Luke’s pushed him there before, and it’s one of his favourite things, to see him so unselfconscious about wanting something for once. “Please. Please.” Luckily for Wedge, Luke is in the mood to indulge him.

Wedge muffles out a moan against the juncture of Luke’s shoulder as he gets close, and then bites down when he comes. Luke holds him close as he shudders through it, placing a kiss on top his head, cradling him gently as he comes back down from the high.

“Been a while?” Luke says the comment off-hand, not really meaning anything by it but observing on the intensity of Wedge’s orgasm.

“You could say that,” Wedge replies, leaning in to Luke. He’s still breathing heavily.

Luke lifts his hand, covered with Wedge’s cum, and slowly begins licking it off. It’s bitter, but nothing Luke isn’t accustomed to. When Wedge finally surfaces, he takes one look at Luke, narrows his eyes, and grips Luke’s wrist so tug Luke’s hand over to finish the clean-up himself.

Which does very little for the fact that Luke is still aching, having been so close but not come yet. When his hand is clean – Wedge’s tongue dragged along every crevice of Luke’s hand, seemingly with the sole intention of driving Luke crazy – Wedge looks at Luke and asks: “How do you want it?”

Luke isn’t— “You. However you want it,” he says, because he really doesn’t care as long as it is Wedge. “I don’t mind, Wedge.”

“It’s a shame I don’t think we’ve got anything…” Wedge muses, as Luke almost chokes on the idea. “Guess I’ll have to settle for doing things the old fashioned way.” He shimmies down the bunk a little, pushing Luke’s hips up. Luke gets the idea and shifts himself further up, sitting up almost, to give Wedge the room to position himself between Luke’s legs.

Wedge gets far enough down that when he turns his head, he can place a kiss to the side of Luke’s knee. So he does so. And follows it with a trail of kisses along Luke’s inner thigh, soft and tempting and tantalising, until he reaches the crease of Luke’s thigh, and shifts so he can place a kiss on Luke’s perineum, before setting his sights back on Luke’s cock.

Luke is already close, having been pushed to the edge by Wedge earlier, and getting Wedge off had only heightened his own desire. So it doesn’t take much of some serious intent on Wedge’s part – his focus on brining Luke to climax this time is single-mined – for Luke to come.

He goes boneless in the aftermath, not noticing as Wedge leaves the bed to go and get a damp cloth from the basin, and come back to clean them up properly. The cool cloth on Luke’s skin is what brings him back to himself, and Wedge’s touch is gently. Once Wedge is finished, he tosses the cloth aside, it landing on the bunk that was supposed to be Luke’s.

Luke doesn’t know what to say.

Luckily, he guesses, neither does Wedge. Wedge wears a perplexed expression for a few moments, then mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “screw it” to himself, and pulls Luke in to a rough embrace. “You know I’m still fucking pissed at you, right?” Wedge says, with a soft undercurrent of affection that sort of undercuts his point. “This doesn’t fix things.”

“I know,” Luke replies. He does. They still trust each other – Wedge trusts Luke with his life, and vice versa, up in space – but a component of that trust, that has been all consuming and total since almost the moment they met, is broken. Luke shattered it when he chose to leave. It can be mended, but a morning of good sex isn’t going to fix it. So he clutches Wedge close and takes what he can get in that moment. “I know, Wedge.”

“I’m really fucking pissed with you.”

“You mentioned.”

“And this can’t happen again, not until we have sorted shit, it was stupid—” Wedge is burying his head in Luke’s shoulder in lieu of looking at him directly. “I don’t regret it, but repeating it would be a _really_ bad idea.”

“Alright.”

“Come back, when you’ve found Han and got that shit sorted. Maybe then we can work this all out. I want to work it out. But not now. We can’t do it now.”

“I know.” Luke pries Wedge’s head off his shoulder, and kisses him softly. It’s a kiss that reeks of promise, but also of a farewell. “I’m going to come back to you, and I’m gonna fix this.”

Wedge considers Luke for a long moment, almost suspicious. But then he settles. “I believe you.” And he tucks himself into the crook of Luke’s arm, curled up safe.

Luke curls his arm around Wedge. Wedge seems almost dozy, relaxed in Luke’s arms in a way that it’s been a very long time since Luke saw. “If you’re going to use me as a pillow, I guess that means you’re not planning on kicking me out of bed anytime soon.”

Wedge’s sleep laden voice comes back to him. “Shush. Comfy. Stay.” Luke laughs softly, then leans back on the pillow. He guesses another hours sleep won’t hurt. Just for a bit. Before they go their separate ways again.

Wedge’s body, a warm weight against Luke’s, lures Luke back off to sleep once again.


End file.
